


Fake Marks

by tomisweets



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bad Ending, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomisweets/pseuds/tomisweets
Summary: In a desperate attempt to end the stigma about how Arthur didn’t have a soulmate, he writes the name of Alfred, the cute café waiter across the street, on his wrist.  When Alfred finds out about this “soulmark”, Arthur has a choice. Does he live a lie to selfishly get what he wants, or tell the truth and spare Alfred’s feelings?





	Fake Marks

“Proficient in the language of love, but it’s a shame hardly anyone comes in for your bouquets.” The nasally voice was distinct enough for Arthur to know exactly who was walking into his flower shop. He had heard Francis’ voice enough to ignore its unwelcome presence and kept his back to the Frenchman, continuing to work.

“They really are beautiful, you know.” Arthur scoffed in response. Of course his arrangements were beautiful. How could he keep the small business open otherwise, especially since-

“But then, how can anyone trust the mark of a floriographer when he himself can’t even find a soulmate?”

“Sod off, frog,” came Arthur’s response through gritted teeth, eyes now narrowed at his offender.

“Oh, so you do hear me today. I was afraid you were going deaf because of your age-”

“I’d rather go deaf, if that would spare me from this conversation.”

“But when I remembered we were the same age, despite how dramatic our physical differences might be, I realized it could not _possibly_ be that,” Francis continued in fake wonderment, unfazed by Arthur’s interruption.

“Are you here to compliment yourself, or are you going to buy something? You’re wasting my time,” Arthur quipped in annoyance.

“Neither. I’m here to help you find your soulmate.”

“Not interested.”

Francis sighed, giving the most displeased look he could without having to frown. He wasn’t going to let Arthur be the reason he developed any stress wrinkles. “You may be lucky enough to be guaranteed one soulmate in this life, but you still have to find them. Besides, you and I both know that it sells better to have the mark than to have the ring.”

Of course, the both of them knew that, along with just about every other member of society. A soul mark only appeared after two soulmates had communicated with each other. Even then, the soul mark would only appear on the person who was the first to say anything. After a soul mark appeared on one person’s skin, and once the two mates were comfortable around each other, the other person would purchase a ring with their soulmate’s name on it, showing that they were taken and bound. In light of present-day trends, it was much better to be seen having a soul mark instead of a soul ring. People saw the mark as a sign of one’s most admirable qualities, such as fortitude, initiative, and self-confidence. In contrast, the ring came to signify passive qualities, such as idealism, patience, and temperance.

As a result, those who were in possession of their soul marks were deemed more influential, more trustworthy. When it came to a highly romantic trade, such as floriography, then, florists with soul marks and even soul rings were naturally more favored, since the people believed they could be “blessed” by their bouquets, which would guide them spiritually to their soulmates. While Arthur’s quaint business was still afloat, he knew that one of the reasons why it wasn’t doing as well as it could have been was because Arthur had neither the mark nor the ring of a successful romance.

He’d often have customers come in, ones who would look in marvel and fascination upon the arrangements he had on display. They’d show interest in creating a custom arrangement for loved ones, then suddenly back out upon realizing Arthur’s wrists were bare and his finger without a ring.

“And you know that everyone will be trying to find flowers for Mates’ Day, don’t you?” Francis spoke again, snapping Arthur out of his reverie.

“Yes, of course I’m aware, you twit,” Arthur snapped. He sighed, struggling to think about what his situation would mean for his business, in the face of the upcoming holiday.

Mates’ Day was a holiday that was celebrated near the beginning of spring, wherein already-mated individuals would buy a bouquet of flowers to signify specific feelings or emotions towards their bonded, while those still searching for their soulmates would purchase colorful bouquets to set on display, each flower signifying an aspect of their own personality. It was the only day in the year that found so many people walking around, each carrying their own bouquet, mingling and networking, often off the advice of a florist, in hopes of meeting their one true love. It was the day that should have proved busiest for every florist around the world. And yet, Arthur could vividly remember his disappointment last year, when he barely gathered enough sales to break even with his additional costs spent on advertising. For all that the banners and radio ads and limited edition accessories had done, the days’ patrons still called his consulting into question, some of them even outright dumping the bouquets and leaving because they couldn’t find any stupid, silly mark on his wrists.

As if anyone knew the language of cryptics and subtleties, ways to express feelings which could not be spoken aloud, better than Arthur, who was so deeply repressed that he had to resort to measures beyond words and actions to convey his feelings. Honestly.

Setting aside his own pride, Arthur knew he had to approach Mates’ Day realistically.

With how close the holiday was, Arthur knew he would need all the time he could get if he wanted to have a mate’s mark by Mates’ Day.

“… What did you have in mind?” Arthur relented.

Francis allowed himself a smug smile at that.

* * *

Two weeks had come and gone, and Arthur was no closer to a mate’s mark than when he started this. After going to so many singles’ bars, having Francis host blind dates, and meeting so many people, a mating mark had neither shown upon his own skin, nor upon anyone else’s, among those whom he had interacted with.

“I asked for an estimate. This price is too high.”

Arthur held back a sigh. This was a customer who had been at least a little interested in creating a floral arrangement for his mate. With his business as it was now, Arthur needed to try and hold onto every customer he could get. “It’s a lower price than what the surrounding florists will offer, you have my guarantee on that,” Arthur assured. He knew, of course, because he’d check every so often. On a day like Mates’ Day, it was too important to risk not being competitive.

“Yes, but you don’t have what they do,” the customer responded, looking down at Arthur’s bare wrist.

Arthur frowned upon hearing his words, slightly moving his hands away from the customer. Of course the customer had expected that the price be much cheaper due to the fact that Arthur was ‘inexperienced’ with mates and love and whatnot, but Arthur knew the value of his own flowers and designs. While he was desperate to keep customers, he still needed enough money to continue to pay for the space and to maintain the quality of his flowers. He couldn’t have anyone thinking they could get away with underpricing him for something as irrelevant to his trade as a mate’s mark or ring.

“This is the price. Take it or leave it,” Arthur answered stiffly. With that, the customer gathered his belongings, and took off with a grumble, leaving Arthur alone in the flower shop. After the customer had stormed away a good distance, Arthur allowed himself to sigh, bringing his head down to his hands. So long as he didn’t have a mate, customers would continue to come in and leave without making any purchases. He couldn’t afford to idle around and wait for his mate to appear any longer. He had to do something, _now_.

He let his mind work as his body busied itself, bringing in a few of the floral displays from outside, planning to replace the water in their vases. It was as he picked up one of the vases that he heard laughter coming from across the street, where two young women stood with a waiter for the café. Despite opening only three months ago, the cafe found itself constantly bustling, and Arthur suspected that the waiter currently entertaining the two women, in particular, was partly responsible for this.

“Please, Mr. Jones is my father. Call me Alfred! After all, we’re buds right? If you get a latte, maybe I can sneak in some dessert for you,” he could hear the waiter say, adding a wink and a grin for extra charm. His customers giggled in response, obviously enjoying the attention they were getting. Arthur scoffed. They all knew it was a joke, of course, and that written on the standing sign outside the cafe was ‘Each purchase of latte art comes with a free slice of cheesecake’. He suspected that the staff members calling each other by their last names was a marketing ploy as well, to make it seem as if the customers were closer to the waiters than even their fellow staffers were.

Even though Arthur had scoffed at the sight as he brought his flower pots back in, he couldn’t help but be slightly entertained whenever he’d have a chance to wander outside. After all, that particular waiter was constantly putting on a show, chattering nonstop, and even sitting with patrons that came by themselves. It didn’t help that he had a laugh so infectious that those around him couldn’t help cracking a smile just from hearing it. Not that Arthur ever did, of course.

Whoever had that man as a mate was probably the luckiest person alive.

Arthur mentally slapped himself for allowing such a thought to enter his head, and he quickly shook the thought away. He knew how fate loved to mess with him, had practically built his life around bad fortune: working in a profession associated with love while he held no soulmate, creating beautiful bouquets full of meaning while his own life held none, and struggling to find love despite speaking its intricate language. Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he was destined to end up mateless in a world where mates were the most important indicator of a fulfilling life.

Arthur sighed as he went to place a pot back outside, pausing only when he heard a girl squeal at the café, the girl across from them showing her arm. “You’re joking! Your soulmate is David Beckham?!”

Arthur rolled his eyes at the outburst. He highly doubted that was to be the case. Every week, it seemed like someone new was the ‘soulmate’ of Chris Evans or Scarlett Johansson. Naturally, the stories almost always ended in the same way. A fake soul mark, applied with dark marker or a self-applied tattoo. Considering how abundant fake soul marks with celebrity names were, lawmakers had worked to make it illegal to pay a tattoo artist for a soul mark, and permanent markers were newly redesigned to have the ability to be smudged on skin if rubbed at hard enough. Anything written in marker would only last for a day or so before becoming faded, while real marks would stay a deep black.

‘A day would be long enough for Mates’ Day.’

The thought had formed in Arthur’s head before he could stop it, and it nearly scared him. It was unethical, and beyond underhanded. He really shouldn’t…. But if he chose a name and wrote it on his wrist… If he could just get customers to come into his shop on Mates’ Day…then his business could survive another few months. Possibly another year. People wouldn’t even care about the name itself, so long as he had a mark. For most people, Mates’ Day was the only time they ever went to a florist during the year. Obviously, he couldn’t put a celebrity’s name on his wrist, but a name of someone who would be too busy on Mates’ Day to partake in the height of the festivities would be alright. The more he played around with the idea, the more tempting it became.

* * *

Arthur would be embarrassed to admit how long he stayed up the night prior, or how many papers he used as practice to ensure the calligraphy on his left wrist was perfect. Ornate lines surrounded meticulous calligraphy, in order to make the mark seem as authentic as possible. The name he had chosen: Alfred Jones. Choosing a real name would make the mark seem authentic, Arthur had reasoned. After deciding that, the rest was simply a process of elimination: who would be too busy to partake in Mates’ day; who he didn’t know closely enough to the point where it would be obvious that the mark was a sham; who he wouldn’t mind having the name of on his wrist.

He had worn short sleeves that morning, prepared to show off the wrist mark as much as possible, and set out all his tools as close to the counter as he could, so that the mark would be visible as he wrapped the bouquets. Even the personality sheets that singles would answer were placed at his left side, so that the first movement of passing a sheet to a customer would display his mark clearly and proudly.

It was as Arthur was sorting a few of the ready-made ‘love’ and ‘joy’ bouquets in the back that he heard the bell ring at the door, alerting him of a customer. He must have forgotten that he’d already hung up the “Open” sign. Turning around, Arthur began to greet his customer. “Welcome. Are you here for a Single’s bouquet or a Mate’s–“ he felt his breath catch in his throat as he approached the counter and saw none other than Alfred Jones, the café worker whose name Arthur had painstakingly inked onto his wrist, the victim of his crime. He moved stiffly, desperately trying to keep his left wrist as close to his leg as possible, trying as he might to hide the fake mark.

It was clear from Alfred’s expression that Arthur’s stiffness didn’t go unnoticed, but, charming as he was, the man chose to brush off Arthur’s stilted actions.“Definitely a Single’s, dude. I’m hoping that having flowers this time will get me closer to a soulmate.” And then he winked, as if he had just let Arthur in on some exclusive information. _Silly fool. …Charming, silly fool_.

“You’re going to partake in the celebrations?” Arthur asked, feeling dread form in the pit of his stomach. Given how unique personalities could be, Single’s bouquets were arranged on-site, meaning Alfred would go through a consultation process, as well as stay behind to wait for his bouquet to be arranged. All of this meant that he had an incessant amount of time to spot the mark as Arthur worked.

“Not really…I’ll still be working,” Alfred admitted sheepishly. When he realized that it probably didn’t make sense to buy a bouquet when he wasn’t going to be holding it, he amended his words. “But my boss is letting us display our bouquets at the entrance this year. That’s pretty cool!”

Arthur nodded, still stiff as he saw Alfred try to glance down at his fingers and wrists, most likely trying to see if there was a Mate’s mark. “I’ll need you to fill out a few questions on paper first,” Arthur started quickly, bringing Alfred’s attention back to his face. “Once you’re done, we’ll discuss as to which aspects of your personality you want displayed on your bouquet.” Trying to seem as fluid as possible, Arthur reached across his own body, grabbing the paper with his right hand and passing it to Alfred. “You can fill it out by the settee over there, and bring it here when you’re done.” He then turned around, reaching for the flowers nearest him in order to create another display bouquet, in an effort to seem too occupied to stand around, else risk giving Alfred a chance to see the mark.

Arthur had been so preoccupied with ensuring that Alfred wouldn’t be able to see his wrist that he hardly even noticed someone else walking into the store and coming up to the counter, completely unaware that the person stared straight at his mark as he continued to work. “‘Alfred Jones’? You didn’t have that Mate’s mark yesterday. Took matters more seriously after I left, eh?” Arthur jolted as the person finally spoke up, announcing their presence to him. Turning around, he saw that it was his customer from the day prior, the one who had made a fuss complaining about Arthur’s prices, and then left without even purchasing a single thing.

“Did you say ‘Alfred Jones’?” Oh no. No. Alfred had gotten up, the form forgotten as he focused his attention on Arthur’s old customer. Arthur’s mind tried to race for an excuse, his right hand instinctively pressing over his left wrist to cover the fake mark, as if he could hide it and somehow convince the two the ink on his wrist spelled out any other name.

“Being shy now, are you?” The customer teased. “Ah, I remember my mate was the same. But by the looks of it, you’ve found your mate on Mates’ Day, and that’s some good luck.”

“Really?!” came Alfred’s eager response. Oh God, Arthur could almost see the stars in Alfred’s eyes, as they searched upon his wrists for a glimpse of the mark that Arthur was desperately trying to hide. Arthur knew hiding the mark any longer would bring about suspicions, and he couldn’t risk anyone discovering his ruse already when he had barely just opened his business for the day. To Alfred’s delight, Arthur slowly moved his right hand away, letting Alfred see his wrist, while his face burned red from shame and panic.

“Suppose I’m not going to need that single’s anymore,” Alfred started with a wide grin. “But, I’d still like to buy a bouquet from you…and for you. I guess I can’t exactly give you a love bouquet just yet, so….” he trailed, before finally snapping his fingers. “How ‘bout one for “happy ever after”? Biggest one you’re allowed to make!”

Arthur couldn’t help but raise a brow. “Are you sure? You don’t have to give me a bouquet for Mates’ day. After all, the mark’s only just shown up…” Arthur began, feeling a prick of guilt. Besides, Arthur couldn’t accept a bouquet that didn’t actually belong to him.

“Positive!” Alfred responded happily. “But… I want to make it a little more personalized for you, so that it’ll actually be from me, y’know? Hmmmm… Can you include _that_ flower into it too?”

_That_ flower, the one Alfred proceeded to point to, was no other than a pink freesia, and Arthur paled as its meaning registered in his head. Freesia, a flower that meant trust between two partners. But…there was simply no way Alfred could have known what the flower meant. It was a mere coincidence, Arthur assured himself, and as most other customers did, Alfred must have picked it solely because he imagined it’s pink hues would go along with the theme of happy ever after. Arthur mentally gulped, as the sense of dread he felt earlier built again. As much as Arthur wanted to guide Alfred to pick a different, less foreboding, flower, he couldn’t question a customer’s choice, not unless he wanted Alfred to start getting curious as to the reason behind it, and especially not in front of the other customer. A floriographer’s duty on this day was to create beautiful arrangements to their customer’s specification, no matter how outlandish a request may seem. He heard the bell ring with more customers entering, and he knew he couldn’t risk his business by prolonging Alfred’s order.

Alfred turned to look at the others coming in, smiling at the new customers. “Make it when you have time, okay?” he said, turning his attention back to Arthur. “But be sure to have it by the time you close today. I want you to be able to have it for tonight, for when we celebrate the rest of Mates’ Day together!” After a bit of hesitation, Alfred shyly blew Arthur a kiss before flashing his trademark grin, running back to his own workplace across the street.

It shouldn’t have surprised Arthur that Alfred would want to spend Mates’ Day together, but it definitely weighed on his mind the entire day. He couldn’t do much to dwell on the dilemma he now faced, given that throughout the day, more and more customers came in requesting bouquets for themselves or their significant others. By the time closing came and he started working on his own bouquet, he scarcely even begun asking himself how he should tell Alfred it was a fake mark.

Obviously, if he told Alfred now, he’d face a similar problem posed that morning, in that those who bought bouquets from him would demand a refund, and he’d stand to lose more than if he had never lied to begin with. But continue this and act like Alfred’s mate? Could he in good conscience do that? “A few days. A few days I’ll make him happy, before breaking the news,” he assured himself. A few days would be enough time for people not to linger on where they bought their bouquet from, and not enough time for Alfred and himself to have more than a shallow relationship together. With that in mind, Arthur nodded to himself, believing that to be the best course of action as he finished up the small bouquet. As he tied the stems with a bow, he heard the bell ring, Alfred coming in despite- or rather because of- the sign showing ‘closed’.

“Considering I’ll be walking around with it, I couldn’t make it very big,” Arthur immediately excused as Alfred walked towards the counter.

“That’s alright. I should have thought of that when I asked you to make it. How much?” Alfred asked, pulling out his wallet.

Arthur shook his head. He had already made more than enough money to last him until the next major holiday, due to word traveling quickly about having a mark, and he didn’t doubt that Alfred not only had helped in unwittingly being the bearer of the fake mark, but also by directing some of those in the cafe to his shop. Besides, it would ease Arthur’s conscience a bit if he didn’t make Alfred pay for something that he wouldn’t have otherwise, had Arthur not been one to deceive. “Free. Since I couldn’t get you a gift for Mates’ Day, this is the least I could do to repay you. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Then can I at least show you a good time? I think there are supposed to be fireworks tonight.”

“Lead the way.”

* * *

Arthur was supposed to have already told Alfred about the fake mark, supposed to already be done with all of this and run his florist shop as he did before. He was supposed to have already let Alfred go off and find his actual mate, and resume his own search for his own mate. He knew the risks associated with keeping Alfred around, any number of them could get him into more trouble than he wanted, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to break the news, already imagining what kind of face Alfred would make. He couldn’t bear the thought.

Fate decided to be ever cruel, having Arthur fall in love with the man that was most definitely not to be his mate. The night of Mates’ Day had been the most Arthur’s laughed in a long time. At first, it had only been to ensure Alfred’s night went well, a consolation for using his name like this and planning on deceiving him the few days after, but he soon learned a lot about Alfred in the short time. Alfred liked puns. The boisterous laugh was real, but Alfred was more embarrassed about flirting than Arthur’s overheard conversations had let on. Alfred couldn’t tell the difference between countries outside of his homeland, but when it came to the sky above, his eyes sparkled as he recounted information of the Andromeda Galaxy and the Alpha Centauri system. When Arthur showed he could recount the story associated with Orion, Alfred was more than thrilled to listen, pointing to different constellations and asking Arthur for the stories behind those.

Arthur’s emotions were genuine, and it was only ironic that he would start falling in love with a man that wasn’t meant to be his. By Alfred’s willingness to help in the shop before opening and after closing, Arthur was sure Alfred enjoyed his company as well. As much as it added onto the guilt every morning as he went over the previous day’s lines with his marker, Arthur found that every time he tried to create a serious tone and explain the deception and let them both continue with their lives, the words would be lost in his throat, and he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

“You know, you really don’t have to help me every morning, and I can clean up by myself at night.” It was early that morning, and the both of them were setting up the displays.

“I know, but I like spending time with you, ya know? Also, my boss really likes the fact that I come into work smelling like roses,” Alfred winked in response, causing a smile to form on Arthur’s lips as he set back to the task.

“Hey Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“Can you tell me the name of these flowers?” As Arthur looked up, he saw Alfred pointing to the same flower he had pointed to before on Mates’ Day, bringing back his guilt. In all honesty, Arthur had recently tried to work with that flower as little as possible, due to the emotions it now evoked within him.

“They’re freesias.” Arthur would have to have been blind to not notice each time Alfred approached the flower. “You have quite an interest in them, don’t you.”

Alfred’s voice took on a dreamy quality, sounding far away as he reminisced, “You know, my friend Davie used to tell me that, someday, when he found his soulmate, he would propose to them in a garden of freesias. ‘The richest fields of blues, pinks, whites, and yellows…each one grown and nurtured with my love for you.’ He’d tell me that he wanted to plant a new one every day if he could, so that he could build ‘an expression of love to last, long after both of us may be gone.’”

“And did he?” Arthur asked, genuinely curious to know if there truly was a person so passionate about a particular flower that they would go through such efforts.

“He…died before he could find his soulmate…” Alfred murmured, looking down at the freesia and giving a gentle caress to its petals. “I can’t find his soulmate for him, and I can’t grow a field of flowers, but… .” Alfred took one of the freesias from the display vase, walking over to Arthur and placing the stem in Arthur’s hand. “I want you to take this little one home. So that my happiness and my love can stay with you, even when I’m not there.”

Arthur couldn’t say no, not after hearing what Alfred had just poured his heart into… Not when Alfred was holding his hands so gently, as if he was afraid that the slightest pressure would crush the lone flower, as if he’d placed pieces of his heart into the petals of the freesia, and was giving it to Arthur to safekeep. As conscience-stricken as Arthur felt, he couldn’t stop himself from taking the flower home with him, placing it in its own special vase, wishing that he might someday be able to honor its true meaning–that he could hope to be as trustworthy and as thoughtful as Alfred had proven to be. Truly, if there was anyone who deserved to be surrounded by freesias for the rest of his life, it was Alfred F. Jones.

* * *

“Happy belated birthday to you~! Happy belated birthday to you~!” As Arthur locked the door of his flower shop, he heard the familiar tune with a slight twist of the song. He had been confused. No one here knew about his birthday. He never got close enough to anyone for that information to mean anything, so how did Alfred know that his birthday had passed some days prior?

“Happy belated birthday dear Arthur~” The song continued, closer now. Spending time with each other little by little had made Arthur used to the small amount of guilt he faced daily whenever he rewrote the mark, but Alfred singing like this, despite being in public, putting effort into celebrating a belated birthday like one would an actual birthday, it caused all of the guilt to hit Arthur like a wave.

When Arthur finally turned around, he could see Alfred holding a wrapped present in his hands, finishing off the last verse of his song with a warmly spoken “Happy belated birthday to you, sweetie.”

“Alfred, how-?” “Shh,” Alfred shushed, moving the present to one hand as he grabbed Arthur’s other, leading him across the way to empty cafe tables. “I want you to open it first.”

“How did you know-”

“Please Arthur. Just open it. I promise I’ll explain it afterwards.” Alfred said as he set down the box, his eyes sparkling in the excitement and anticipation.

Not arguing any further, Arthur moved his hands to carefully open the present laid before him, pulling apart the wrapping paper and opening the flaps that concealed the item. Inside was a stuffed bear, not unlike one that Arthur had lost on his move from his childhood home. While it was clearly a new stuffed animal, the color of the fur, the approximate size, and the red, white, and blue ribbon around the neck was reminiscent of the old one.

“How…?” Arthur’s voice came out as a horse whisper as he pulled out the bear, rubbing his thumb across the fur.

“Do you like it? It wasn’t easy, but I ended up finding one of your brothers. From there, I talked with your parents, and asked them about when your birthday was, and the best way to surprise you.”

“You… You told my parents…” No. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. This fake soulmark was supposed to only affect him and Alfred. Now there was expectation from other people. If Alfred already told Arthur’s family, who else did he already tell? No doubt Alfred’s own family knew about it already.

“They also gave me their blessing for the bonded years to come,” Alfred said happily, that being the first step already for the unmarked mate to gain a soul ring, and seal the bonding between souls.

Arthur shook his head. This had gone on long enough. In waiting to find the right moment to break the news to Alfred, he had waited much too long. He couldn’t accept the gift, couldn’t accept Alfred staying nice to him, getting to know his family, and ruining every expectation, all for a lie. He couldn’t manage the guilt any longer. “Alfred. I can’t accept this…”

Alfred frowned, clearly unhappy by Arthur’s unwillingness to accept the gift. “What do you mean? Of course you can. It’s for you, Arthur. It’s a gift-”

“No. I can’t!” Arthur shouted in return, pushing the box away. “I can’t do any of this anymore! I’ve been lying to you! I’ve lied about everything! I’m not your soul mate! I was going to tell you, but then you were so nice to me, and you were always smiling and I didn’t want to take that away from you! I wanted to see you happy! I wanted to be your soulmate, but I can’t! I’m not and I never will be!” by this point, Arthur could feel his eyes well up with tears, blurring his vision a bit as he rubbed at the mark on his skin.

“Arthur I don’t understand-” “It’s a fake, Alfred! It’s been a fake! From the very beginning it was! It was only meant to be a one-time thing, something to bring in customers! It’s not real! Look!” he shouted, smudging the marker as it streaked over his skin. Arthur gritted his teeth, waiting for Alfred to fully see the blank canvas of skin, but to his own surprise, while the marker started to fade, the mark beneath was still intact, as dark as it had been before Arthur had smudged any of the ink.

It dawned on him that the mark beneath wouldn’t fade, that the neat lines weren’t part of the marker, but instead part of his skin. As he rubbed and rubbed, the mark still stayed pristine. Despite Arthur’s words, there really was a soul mark there, and Arthur had been playing the fool by always trying to keep the mark written. His body calmed a bit, as he glanced back up to Alfred. Arthur knew he must have seemed like an idiot to Alfred.

Alfred was quiet for a while, and Arthur thought it best to speak first. “I… I am your soulmate…” Arthur said softly. He flinched as Alfred’s hands banged against the table, the other now standing with a frown on his face.

“…You’re not making any sense Arthur…faking a soulmark since the beginning?” Alfred asked. Arthur could see the sliver of hope in Alfred’s eyes, one that almost yearned for this to be some sort of sick practical joke, but a joke nonetheless. The longer Arthur stayed silent, however, the more that light of hope dimmed, and the more Alfred’s body stiffened.

Arthur could already feel himself become smaller under the weight of Alfred’s words, as he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Yes…I-I thought I…b-but I really am your-”

“That’s not what I want to hear, Arthur!” Alfred spat bitterly, his shoulders tensed as he shook his head, as if trying to wake himself up from a nightmare. After a moment, Alfred let out a shaky sigh, and Arthur caught a glimpse of his mate’s glassy eyes, before turning his head away, not wanting to see Alfred look so painfully vulnerable, not because of him.

“All that our relationship ever meant to you was…what?” Alfred’s voice cracked at the last word, as sound between a laugh and a scoff emerges from his lips to cover it up. “Keeping up your fucking business? Because you like to lie and cheat your way to everything? _Was I just_ –was it all just…some kind of sick, twisted _chore_ for you?” Arthur couldn’t bring himself to look, no, not at the way Alfred’s lips quivered before him, not at the way his face contorted, straining as he refused to cry. It didn’t matter, as the tears that welled up in Arthur’s eyes began to fall, and he couldn’t help but to cry in Alfred’s stead, even though he didn’t deserve to.

“You thought you were lying to me the entire time? And you had me believe we were soul mates?” Alfred asked. Arthur felt the guilt come back, feeling helpless at his inability to change the past, to take back all the things he had done.

“If our relationship was built on your manipulation…then what was the point?” Alfred asked, horrified devastation evident in his voice, his breaths coming in small gasps. Arthur didn’t have to look to know that Alfred was crying now, too. “You found it this easy to lie about something so important instead of tell me?” It nearly came out as a whisper, Alfred clearly not in control of his own emotions anymore. Hurt, disbelief, and despair coated his voice, betrayal most of all. After this long, for Alfred to find out that Arthur had been harboring such a huge secret, it was no wonder Alfred had clenched his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“I-It wasn’t easy…” Arthur stuttered, trying and failing miserably to defend as he shied away from Alfred.

Alfred gripped at the table until his knuckles turned white, interrupting Arthur as voice raised. “ _It wasn’t easy?_ Oh, but you thought _I_ was easy, didn’t you? Thought that I was some dumb American, and that, I don’t know, you could string me along because you felt like it, _because you made me care when you **never** did._ ”

Alfred let out a weak laugh, sounding almost manic in his disheveled state. “You lied to my face, Arthur…you…you told me I was–that you–!” He paused, taking several deep breaths, until the anger seeped out of his voice, and only exhaustion remained. “How can I have a soul mate I can’t even trust? You said you…loved me. But I guess all your love amounts to is good-bye. ”

“Alfred, I–” Before Arthur could get another word out, Alfred bolted away from the table, leaving behind everything he’d brought. “Alfred, wait!” Arthur called out, running to catch up to him, but his words only made Alfred sprint faster, widening the distance between the two. He didn’t stop as Arthur called out to him, didn’t stop as Arthur tried to yell out his weak apologies. Before Arthur knew it, Alfred had completely disappeared from his sight. Breathless as Arthur was, he didn’t want Alfred to leave like this. Even though Arthur knew he only had himself to blame, he wanted to explain his situation, his fears, keeping the hope that Alfred would find it in his heart to forgive him. He wanted nothing more than to start over, to tell Alfred how he really felt, show him all of the affection that he deserved, instead of a constant charade, especially now that Arthur knew they were actually soulmates. And yet, despite the tears that wouldn’t stop streaming down his face, despite his feet aching from running throughout the entire square, despite his voice parched and nearly gone from trying to call out his mate’s name, Arthur failed to locate a single trace of Alfred. Hours passed before Arthur could no longer call out, could no longer apologize, and could no longer handle the numbing cold that served to emphasize his own emptiness. Forced to quit his search for the night, he sorely trudged home hoping and praying to every deity he knew that he’d never believed in, that Alfred would have heard him, and taken his apologies to heart.

* * *

Arthur never saw Alfred after that. He had hoped to give Alfred a few days, hoped that Alfred would see they were still soul mates, but when he walked into the cafe one morning searching for Alfred, he was informed that Alfred had resigned out of the blue. When he asked to gain the number from his own parents that Alfred had used, the number was disconnected.

It was as if as quickly as Alfred had come in and turned his life into joy, he just as quickly left and let Arthur feel the destruction of his actions. Arthur sat alone in his room, markers in the wastebin, bear in his lap, and lone freesia wilting in the corner, reminding him of his cruel reality, that it wasn’t just a bad dream he could wake up from, and that he really was a man scorned by destiny. Although he wasn’t mateless in a world where mates mattered the most, he had ruined the bond that was said to be unbreakable between two souls, and that was a fate far crueler than Arthur had ever imagined possible.


End file.
